


Broken Hallelujah

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: While on a case in Montana, Aaron and Derek are in a car accident and the team has to solve the case without them.  This is a lot of words to say...Derek is a good friend.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/David Rossi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

“Morgan?” Aaron called through the smoke. He couldn't move, something wet was trickling down his forehead and there was broken glass and crunched metal all around him. “Morgan, are you alright? Answer me!”

“I'm good, Hotch,” Morgan called from somewhere to Aaron's left, but he couldn't see him through all of the smoke. His eyes wouldn't focus, his head was thundering and he couldn't seem to move. His seat belt was tight against his chest, cutting into his neck painfully, but he couldn't move his arms to unbuckle himself, he was wedged in the crumpled vehicle too tight. “You good Hotch?”

“I...” he started, blinking the dripping blood from his eyelashes, wishing he could free up one hand to wipe it away. “I think so.”

“I'm coming around to your side, hold on...” Morgan called, scrambling around the SUV. He held on to the vehicle as he moved around, his head swimming but his body worked. When he saw Hotch's door and the other vehicle mangled inside of it, he stood and stared in horror for a moment. 

“Hotch!” he called, terror crawling down his spine. For a moment he thought he'd made up hearing Hotch's voice, that the man hadn't called out to him at all. How could he from inside of that? “Hotch answer me! You still good? HOTCH!”

“I can't move, Morgan,” Hotch called back, and instantly Morgan felt himself relax just a little – Hotch was okay enough to talk to him, it had to be something. In another time, another place, he might be irritated that Hotch had avoided his actual question but right now, he was just glad to hear the other man's voice. He could hear the sirens, he knew the ambulances would be there soon, so he stepped closer to Hotch's door and peered in. He could see the blood running down his boss' face from somewhere on his forehead and he shimmied out of his button-down shirt and held it to the gash as best he could. Hotch's arms were pinned and as much as he wanted to reach in and try to pry the other man out, he knew it wouldn't be smart, he had no idea the extent of his injuries. He was able to talk, but he wasn't moving, not even a little. As the sheriffs and ambulance showed up, Morgan stepped back to let them do their jobs. He answered questions, what he could anyway, but after the sheriff was convinced that he hadn't done anything to cause the accident he was released as they worked on getting Hotch out of the vehicle. Morgan stood back and got on his phone, dialing the only number he knew he needed to call – David Rossi. 

“Rossi, it's Morgan,” Derek started as soon as he heard the man accept the call, and Rossi could hear the panic in the man's voice. He hadn't even waited for Rossi to say a word. 

“What's wrong, Derek?” Dave asked, exiting the small room he'd been standing in with the rest of the team in the Bozeman police station. “Are you alright?” Dave stepped out through the front doors to the station, into the chilly November sunlight. It was midday but the sun was already sinking in the west. 

“Yeah, yeah I'm okay...look Hotch and I were on our way back from Deer Lodge, we're somewhere outside of Butte and a truck came out of nowhere and slammed into us. The sheriff said the guy is plastered, not his first DUI but he's an honest guy, he called 911 right away.”

“And you're okay?” Dave asked, holding the phone so close to his ear now that he was sure it would leave an imprint on his skin. He felt a lump in his throat, waiting for the information Derek hadn't offered up yet. “What about Aaron?”

“I don't know, Rossi, I don't know...” Derek muttered, watching as they ripped the truck backward and then pulled Hotch's door off of it's hinges, what was left of them anyway. “They're getting him out now. The truck hit his side of the SUV, Dave, I'm...”

“We're too close to catching this guy, Derek...we can't come...” Dave knew Derek wanted them there, he knew he needed them, but there was nothing they could do. This unsub would strike again and they had a chance to catch him, they were so close. Dave sighed, seating himself on a bench outside the police station and stared up into the wide Montana sky. 

“I know. You guys have to stay there, but I can't leave him Dave. Can you get this man without me?” There was panic in Derek's voice as he asked his question, and Dave could hear it. 

Dave nodded as if Derek could see him. “We'll get him, kid. Don't worry.”

“Okay. Listen...don't tell the team, not until after the job is done...Hotch wouldn't want them to be distracted. I probably shouldn't have called you but...”

“No, no I'm glad you did. I'll be fine, but you're right. Keep me posted, Derek.” What went unspoken was loud and clear to Morgan. He was one of the only people who knew about Rossi and Hotch, really knew for sure. The rest of the team were intuitive enough that they had some ideas, but Morgan had gone out drinking with them one night and saw what everyone else only imagined. It was like seeing someone for the first time, watching Hotch out with Rossi, all of his rough edges softened – he was still reserved and serious, but he was somehow lighter and he even smiled once or twice. Rossi did that to him. Morgan didn't say a word – not that they asked him to keep it quiet, but he had enough respect for both of them to keep it to himself. Besides, they invited him out more often after they'd realized he wouldn't go telling the world, and he loved a good night out drinking. 

“They got him out,” Derek said softly into the phone, quietly begging Dave not to hang up just yet. He walked over to the stretcher where they had his friend bound tight to keep him immobile and he looked down into those deep brown eyes and smiled. “Hey Hotch, I've got Dave on the line...” Derek muttered, leaning close, putting the phone to Hotch's ear so he could hear Dave on the other end. He didn't listen to what Dave said, it was none of his business, but he watched a tear form in the corner of his friend's eye and a small smile creep across his face before the EMT pulled the stretcher away from him. He put the phone back to his ear and told Dave he'd call him later from the hospital, when he knew more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I so very much appreciate everyone who reads these stories. This story is done, just a little shorty because I had this cute image in my head and it needed to be let out. <3

The ride to the hospital felt like forever and though Derek had wanted to ride alongside Hotch in the ambulance, he ended up in the car with the Montana Highway Patrol Officer heading back to Butte. They followed the ambulance at a distance, their siren blaring to keep the highway clear. As they drove, Derek questioned the officer about their case, just trying to stay useful as best he could. Finally they arrived at the hospital in Butte and watched as the ambulance unloaded Hotch and wheeled him inside the Emergency Room, Derek in hot pursuit. 

“I'm sorry, you can't go in there,” came the soft voice of a man standing near the door to the ER, a nurse from the looks of it. Derek paused and pulled out his credentials, flashing them in the nurse's face in the hopes that it would help. 

“I'm with him, I'm his medical proxy if anything happens,” Derek gasped, staring a little too intensely at the young nurse who just nodded sympathetically and smiled. 

“I'll let them know. They can't have anyone else back there right now, but I'll let them know to talk to you when they know something. Can you go over to the registrar's desk and make sure we have all of his information?”

“Of course,” was Derek's clipped reply, trying to keep his frustration level in check. His head was pounding now, everything felt like it was crashing down around him – the team needed him on the case, Hotch needed him here, but he was stuck in the middle doing nothing. He spoke with the woman at the registration desk, helping her get hold of everything she needed on Hotch, which didn't take nearly long enough because when he finished he was still left alone with nothing to do. He settled himself into a seat in the corner and pulled out his phone, intending to amuse himself by playing around on social media, but he just sat and stared at the screen instead. He couldn't keep his mind off of Hotch back there alone, the way it always was with Hotch – he just always seemed to end up alone, even when they tried not to let it happen. In his mind, he knew everyone was alone in this situation, there wasn't anything else to do, but it just seemed to hit home more when it was Hotch back there. He toyed with the idea of texting Garcia, asking her to monitor the hospital's records, but he knew that it wouldn't help anything and it was ridiculous. He was here now. 

“Agent Morgan?” came the voice of the woman at the registration desk, motioning for him to come over. He stood quickly and almost ran over, anticipation for something to do moving him along. 

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning on her desk like a hopeful puppy. She smiled warmly at him and handed him a small plastic badge. 

“Doctor Adams says you can come back, they're done in triage and they're taking him in for imaging. They're in room C, down this hallway behind me, take the first right and it'll be the 3rd room you come to.”

“Thanks,” Derek said quickly, hauling himself on tired legs down the hallway and toward Hotch's room. When he got there, he tried to keep it together, seeing Hotch lying there with his eyes dazed and barely open – he almost looked childlike, helpless. They'd unstrapped him from the immobilizing unit but his head was still in a brace so he couldn't move his neck. His face was swollen and covered in dried blood and bruises, and Derek couldn't see anything else with the hospital gown and blanket covering the rest of his friend but he knew it couldn't be any better. He looked at the doctor, his eyes pleading for something he didn't even understand – an answer? Why was he up and walking around and Hotch was lying there? 

“Agent Morgan?” the doctor asked, holding his hand out for a quick shake. Derek gripped the man's hand a little tighter than he'd intended and nodded his head. His intensity level was sky high. 

“We need to take him back for some scans, but I figured it wouldn't hurt anything if you waited back here for him to be finished. His chart reads like the main character in a John Grisham novel. Shot, stabbed, etcetera etcetera...it's a little frightening. Seemed to me like he needed someone with him – just don't interfere, please. Often we have to make people wait outside because they try to get in the way. Let us do our jobs and you can stay with him as long as we can allow it.”

“Thanks, doc,” Derek muttered, settling into one of the seats in the back of the room. He watched as they wheeled Hotch away from him, and this time he pulled out his phone to send a quick text. 

_Taking him back for scans now. I'll let u know when I have more._

He stared at it for a moment, wrestling with whether to hit send – the last thing he wanted was to get in the way of the team's investigation, but if he were Dave, he'd want to know. He'd need to know. Finally, after erasing and retyping three times, he hit send and sighed. Derek looked around the room, studying every detail with every bit of focus he could muster just for something to do. It was nearly two hours of waiting before they wheeled Hotch back into the room, this time in a wheelchair instead of on a stretcher, which made Derek's entire body almost convulse as his muscles released all of the tension they'd been holding onto since he saw the other man in the vehicle. The nurse parked Hotch next to his friend and the doctor walked in right behind them, wheeling his stool over to where the two men sat. 

“Well, Agent Hotchner, you are one lucky man...” the doctor muttered, flipping through the chart papers quickly. “You're going to be here a few hours yet while we patch you up, but we couldn't find any indication of a serious spinal injury or any internal damage – very rare in an accident of that magnitude, so we will be letting you get out of here tonight.” The doctor launched into the laundry list of damage they did find, which turned Derek's stomach, but he held firm to the lack of spinal injury, the sight of Hotch in a wheelchair and not the stretcher. Concussion, broken clavicle, contusions, lacerations, stitches, broken ribs...Derek's head was swimming with all the medical jargon, but he couldn't help smiling every so often knowing that Hotch was okay. 

“Let's get this show on the road, shall we?” the doctor asked, indicating for the nurse to grab the wheel chair and follow him. They walked down the hallway, exiting the ER for a moment before re-entering at the back end, coming into a large open room filled with all sorts of medical equipment at the ready. The nurse pushed Hotch into a corner and pulled a curtain around where he sat, Derek taking a seat beside him. 

“We'll be back in a few moments,” the nurse said with a smile, closing the curtain entirely, leaving just the two men there in silence. Derek looked over at Hotch, unable to control his smile. 

“I'm okay, Derek,” Hotch said in a soft, almost whisper thin voice. Derek nodded. 

“I know,” he replied, letting his hand find its way over to Hotch's – he rested it there, gently, and let it stay there until the medical team returned with bandages and stitches and the whole nine yards. They made Derek back up while they stitched and taped and wrapped his friend, which Derek had the sense to snap a quick photo of – for Dave, maybe, or blackmail later if need be. Whatever it was, watching a team of medical personnel fawning over Aaron Hotchner was a sight that Derek was sure he'd never forget. When they had finished, he looked a great deal more human – the blood was washed from his face, leaving a bandage covering most of his forehead where he'd been sliced earlier, his right arm was in a sling, his hand in a separate bandage inside of the sling. He'd watched them stitch or bandage his other arm, his legs, his neck – the man looked a hot mess, but they assured him most of it was superficial. They repeated over and over again just how lucky he'd been, and Derek couldn't get over it – his heart felt like it would burst every time they said it, reaffirmed what he already knew. 

“Agent Morgan?” the doctor motioned for him to come speak with him in private, just outside of the curtain. 

“Yeah?”

“We want to keep him at least another hour for observation, that concussion is pretty bad. Is he behaving somewhat normally? Is he usually so quiet?”

“Yeah...this is just him,” Derek replied with a smile, hoping to ease the doctor's worry that Hotch was somehow acting out of character due to his head injury. “He's...a pretty reserved guy.” 

“Okay, great, that's great news. Normally when people find out their injuries aren't as bad as expected, they're a little more animated and he hasn't cracked a smile...”

“Nah, he doesn't really... _do that_.”

The doctor chuckled a little and nodded. “I've known people like that. Keep an eye on him, let us know if anything changes – we'll just let you guys sit in here, rather than move him again. It's a slow day, we don't need the room. In an hour I'll come back, we'll do an assessment, and if it all seems good we'll let you guys get out of here.” 

“Thanks doc,” Derek replied, moving back to his seat beside Hotch. 

“Can we leave?” Hotch asked, his eyes trained on his bandaged hand as if he was in a daze. His head was thundering angrily but as long as he focused on his hand, the dizzy swaying feeling stopped. 

“Not yet, they want to keep you for an hour...observation. They're worried you knocked a few screws loose.” Derek watched the man for a smile, any reaction at all to his joke, but he hadn't really expected anything. 

“Have you heard from the team? Did they catch...”

“Not our concern right now, man,” Derek replied, cutting his friend off mid question. “They've got it under control. I trust them.”

“Did you tell them?”

“No. Just Dave, and he's keeping it quiet until they're finished.” 

Hotch swallowed hard and gathered everything inside of him to tear his eyes away from his hand, to turn his stiff, sore neck until he was looking at Derek. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, turning quickly back to his hand, quelling the nausea and the dizzy feeling. Derek stared at him for a moment like a deer caught in headlights, trying to decide what the thanks was for – not telling the whole team? Calling Dave? Staying with him? Maybe all of it. He just smiled.

“Of course, man. I got you. Just sit and relax, okay? In an hour we'll get out of here.”

…................

“Dave,” Morgan said quietly, pacing the hallway of their hotel, one end to the other, stalking Hotch's door. “We're back at the hotel, he's all settled in and sleeping right now. Can I help you guys?”

“No, we're on our way back – we got him. JJ and Emily made it happen – they're scary, Derek. Very scary.”

“Yeah, I've been saying that for years man...” Derek chuckled, peering inside of the room quickly to check on Hotch in bed. He saw his friend lying there, propped just slightly and surrounded by pillows, his features a mess of bandages and bruises but sleeping peacefully. Derek had all but forced the medications on him, just to get him to sleep for some time - if Hotch had it his way, he wouldn't have even picked up his meds. Derek wasn't about to let that happen. 

“How is he?” Dave asked, his voice quiet and Derek was sure he was close to the rest of the team but hadn't told them yet. There was about to be hell to pay for this one. He knew they'd understand, but they were going to be upset and they were probably going to try to knock down the door to get into his hotel room 

“He's good. I mean, he looks like a mess and he's gonna be laid up a while, but he's good. You need me to help you talk to everyone?”

“I can handle laid up but good,” Dave sighed, and Derek heard the relief in the other man's voice. “I'm going to tell the team back at the precinct. You stay with him.”

“I'm here until you make me leave,” Derek replied, walking back into the room and quietly shutting the door behind him. He heard Dave hang up the phone and he shoved his own phone into his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hotch watching him with sleepy eyes. 

“I thought you were sleeping...”

“I was...” Hotch began quietly. “But I'm thirsty.” Derek laughed and shook his head. 

“What can I get you?” he asked, standing over the bed now with a smile. “We got lukewarm tapwater and a vending machine down the hall.” 

Hotch regarded his friend quietly for a moment, desperately wishing he could tell Derek what he really wanted, but he just couldn't risk it. He always wanted the same thing when he was sick or hurt, and it was ridiculous and childish but it always made him feel better. He couldn't ask Derek Morgan for it, though. 

“Water, please,” he replied finally. “Tap is fine.” Derek shrugged slightly and moved to the bathroom, filling a small plastic cup with water and walked back, handing it to his friend who held it with one hand that seemed to tremble just a little. Derek held his hand under the cup, just in case, as Hotch lifted it to his lips. 

Within a half hour, while the two men were watching some old western on the only channel that was showing anything remotely interesting, they heard the lock click in the door and in walked the entire team, lead by Dave holding what appeared to be a small neon blue slushy from the convenience store. Dave approached the bed with a soft smile, taking in the sight of his love, and handed the slushy to Hotch. Derek watched as Hotch almost lit up with glee grabbing it with his good hand and putting the straw to his lips like an excited child on Christmas morning. The rest of the team hung back in the doorway, trying not to gawk at what they were seeing, the way Hotch lit up at the sight of not only the slushy, but Dave as well. Hotch's defenses were down, he was heavily medicated and still in pain, and he didn't seem to mind but Derek felt like there was something he still needed to protect here, something special and private, so he stood up and moved over to the rest of the team behind Dave. 

“Guys,” Derek chided, ushering them all back out of the room and shutting the door behind them, leaving Dave and Aaron alone in the room. “Come on, I need a drink...and you have GOT to tell me about your night. Dave said you and JJ are scary, Em, I need to know more...”

“What about Hotch?” Reid asked, peering back at the room sadly. Derek smiled. 

“He's good,” Derek replied, looping his arm around Reid's neck and pulling him down the hallway toward the elevator, JJ and Emily just ahead of them.


End file.
